What it is to Yearn
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Requested by mychakk on Tumblr: Victorian!lolly, we've married for convenience but dear Lord I'm in love with you. Crap. Now what?
1. A Flicker of Hope

_Saturday, September 14_ _th_ _1895_

 _I've no idea what I was thinking. To have hope can be such a cruel thing. A fortnight ago, I was married to Sherlock Holmes. I have loved him for such a long time but I do know he does not feel the same. To him, it is a marriage of convenience; I am able to keep my position as pathologist and he can avoid the likes of Irene Adler as well as cease his parents' complaints of being unmarried. I hope they do not expect grandchildren, for their son does not wish to have any at all. There are times where he looks at me like he might feel the same, but I know it is only my fanciful thoughts that imagine this. I do hope he can grow to love me. There it is again; that word, hope. Until then, keep your head up, Margaret Elizabeth Hooper. Holmes. I keep forgetting that._

* * *

Sherlock Holmes stood facing the hearth of the fireplace. He was deep in his mind palace. Molly crept quietly into the sitting room, careful not to disturb his thoughts. The case he was on was one of utmost importance. He could feel her presence in the room, though she was quiet as a mouse. Her natural scent filled the air around him; it was just so _Molly_. Shaking the sentiment from his mind, his eyes snapped open and found her deep brown ones. Without a word, he swept out of 221B, breezing right past her. Molly's heart ached. She was no longer hungry, and even though Sherlock did not eat during cases, Molly made sure a warm meal was left for him before turning in.

Upon returning home, Sherlock noticed the meal waiting for him. The soft sobbing coming from the bedroom did not go undetected. It was then he realized that the way he stormed out was 'a bit not good.' Though he was still on the case, Sherlock ate the nice dinner she had prepared for him. It was the least he could do.

When Molly heard him enter the room, she stopped crying for fear of him hearing it. Her back was facing him as she pretended to be fast asleep. What surprised her was the fact that he wrapped an arm around her as if he was hugging her to him. The last thing she heard before truly falling asleep were two whispered words from his usually cruel lips.

"Forgive me."

* * *

 _Friday, September 20_ _th_ _1895_

 _Sherlock has been very kind to me as of late. He converses with me more often and one morning, he made breakfast for me. I think he feel just awful for what happened a few nights ago. He can be very sweet when he wants to be. I think he's grown fond of our convenient marriage, but it is not enough to completely dull the ache in my heart. It is enough to make me happy for a little while. Did you know we have never even consummated our marriage? Everyone assumes we have, but we never did. It is not something he wanted to partake in, so as his loving wife, I respected that. I would not want to unless he felt the same anyhow, so it is probably for the best. I do long for his touch though. I often wonder what it would be like; intimacy with the man I love. It is most unfortunate that it shall never happen._

* * *

"Oh I simply cannot wait to see Rosie!" Molly exclaimed. She and Sherlock were taking a carriage to the Watson residence. John was to be helping Sherlock with the case as their wives socialized with one another, unless of course, Molly was needed at the hospital.

"I do not understand why they would name me as godfather of their child," Sherlock complained. "It is not as if I am any kind of father figure."

"You are John's best friend, Sherlock, surely you must know that is the reason," Molly informed him.

"Perhaps, but I suppose they could not name you as godmother without having both of us be included in such a ceremony," he countered.

"Do not sell yourself short, my dear husband. I am sure they see something in you that you do not see in yourself," Molly smiled.

"Preposterous," Sherlock remarked.

"Is it? I see you in ways that you do not agree with," she told him sincerely, gingerly placing her hand atop of his. His gaze cast downward at the sudden touch and she pulled away quickly. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Sherlock had wondered what she meant by that. He pondered about how she might see him. The softness of her touch had made his heart jump and he did not understand why, nor did he want to. Romantic entanglements were nothing but a distraction from The Work.


	2. A Lesson in Love

**Goodness! Thank y'all so much for your kind words! Dreamin, mychakk, CQCRASH, SammyKatz, LipstickIsMyReligion, carmengaar, midnightjade221 and all of my lovely guest reviewers! I am so happy you're all enjoying it! BTW, Happy Birthday to LipstickIsMyReligion!**

* * *

As soon as Sherlock and Molly entered the Watson's home, Mary gestured for her to follow, baby Rosie in her arms.

"Well, hello to you too, Mary," Molly laughed.

"What is going on with you two?" Mary frowned.

"Nothing; absolutely nothing at all," she replied sadly.

"Well, he needs to get his head straightened out," Mary scoffed. "How could he not see what is right in front of him?"

"Mary, I am fine, really," Molly insisted. "And lower your voice, I do not want him to overhear."

"Why not? Maybe then he will realize," Mary joked.

"Look, things have been quite companionable between us and I do not want that ruined. I have accepted that he does not love me, nor will he. The fact he does not want children is one I am having a difficult time accepting," Molly admitted.

"Then talk to him about it," Mary suggested.

"I would but I do not want any of it without his love. It would seem wrong to me," she explained.

"I'll show him what is wrong," Mary huffed. "Sorry." A laugh played on Molly's lips.

"We'll just be off," John called out to them, Sherlock appearing in the doorway next to him. He kissed Mary's cheek and the top of Rosie's head before leaving with the infuriating detective. Molly only shrugged at her friend at Sherlock's silent behaviour.

* * *

"What in blazes are you doing?" John asked in a low voice.

"We are visiting the scene of the crime, John, I thought that was fairly obvious," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Not at this moment, Sherlock. I meant what are you doing with Molly?" he elaborated.

"Nothing at all," Sherlock replied curtly.

"That's the problem," John scolded him. "She is your wife and yet, you do not show her any affection."

"Romantic entanglements are a distraction, therefore she is a distraction," Sherlock stated.

"Unless you need her medical expertise," John added.

"Exactly," he confirmed. "But even then—"

"She's still a distraction?" John guessed. "I wonder why that is. Perhaps you do have some fondness for her after all."

"Nonsense," Sherlock remarked. "She is morbid in the best way and her intelligence is nearly up to par with my own. Of course she distracts me at times, with that lovely smile and the way she lights up a room." John eyed his best friend suspiciously, knowing full well he was fond of her. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd say Sherlock was falling in love.

* * *

 _Monday, September 30_ _th_ _1895_

 _Ever since our visit to the Watsons, Sherlock has been avoiding me. I do believe he might have overheard my conversation with Mary. He has not been cruel by any means, just withdrawn. I am a bit worried about him. I should probably check on his health. You would think with all of the distance he places between us, I would simply stop loving him, but I cannot. I love him more with every breath. I will not write too much more, for nothing has happened as of late. Until next time. Molly._

* * *

"Sherlock? Darling?" Molly called out upon entering the sitting room. He sat in his chair with his hands steepled together.

"Ah, Molly, just who I wanted to see," he smiled.

"Do you need my help with a case?" she asked.

"Of sorts," Sherlock replied, standing up. He walked over to her, a curious look in his eyes. "Do you feel neglected by me?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Molly waved off.

"That does not answer the question. Do you feel neglected?" He pressed on. She said nothing, but the sad look in her eyes told him everything. "I am sorry. I have been a rubbish husband."

"S'okay. It is only a marriage of convenience after all. You are not required to do anything other than to just be my husband," Molly told him, her eyes watering. The flickering candlelight provided an ambiance fit for a more loving moment. "I am quite tired."

"Then I will bid you goodnight," Sherlock told her softly. He pressed his lips against her cheek, leaving them to linger a bit longer. "Sleep well, Molly Holmes." The sound of her name sent chills down her spine, for she always seemed to forget she shared his surname. Surely, after tonight, she would do well to remember it.

* * *

 _Tuesday, October 1_ _st_ _1895_

 _If I had known any better, I would say that I dreamt up everything that happened last night. I cannot seem to shake the soft press of his lips against my cheek. It still tingles where he marked his affection upon me. When he slipped into bed beside me, he gathered me in his arms yet again. Though I was near sleep, I still remember his warm breath on my neck and his thumb tracing patterns on the back of my hand. I do not know what has changed between us but he is suddenly the loving husband I have always wanted. I do hope nothing stops this new shift in our relationship, for he has a tendency to go back and forth. The bed feels too cold without him, where it once felt cold with him. Today is a good day. -Molly Holmes._


	3. A Love Most Ardent

**A huge thank you to you lovely readers and reviewers! Thank you so much for following along on this journey. Enjoy the conclusion :)**

 **Songs That Inspired This Chapter: All I Need by Within Temptation and Clockword (Piano Version) by Sleeping At Last**

* * *

John Watson looked on as Molly and Sherlock examined the corpse upon the slab. He could not deny that they have always worked incredibly well together, but something was different in their interactions now. Sherlock never chastised her as he used to long before their courtship and eventual marriage. He remembered when his best friend first spoke of courting the petite pathologist.

* * *

 _"I have decided to embark in a courtship with Doctor Hooper," Sherlock informed him._

 _"I thought you were never venturing down that road, Holmes," John replied in shock._

 _"It is the only logical decision to help us both out," Sherlock explained. "She will be able to keep her position at the hospital and I won't have to deal with Irene's advances or my parents' complaints ever again."_

 _"Ah, you're a romantic then," John remarked sarcastically._

 _"Hardly," Sherlock responded. "Besides, if I were to choose a wife, Doctor Hooper is well suited to my tastes. She can hold an intelligent conversation, her career choice intertwines with my own and we get along well enough." John only sighed. There was no chance that Molly would accept this offer without any amount of fondness involved._

* * *

"It is in fact poison, dearest husband," Molly informed Sherlock a bit smugly. "Here, you can see the points of entry from the needle. The gruesome mutilation of this man was only to cover up how he truly died."

"There is always one thing," Sherlock muttered to himself in frustration at having overlooked that. He blamed it on his wife, of course, for he could not stop looking at her in awe as she finished up the autopsy. Things he noticed about her in complete concentration was how focused her deep brown eyes were and the way she bit her bottom lip when studying the cadaver closely. During this time, Sherlock was supposed to be scanning the corpse for any clues. Sherlock mentally scolded himself for letting such a thing slip away from him. Which thing he did not know; whether it was that he allowed her presence to be a distraction or the fact that he never truly noticed how lovely his wife is. He decided on both.

"Ready to leave, Sherlock? We must meet Lestrade," John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, shaking the thoughts from his head. He began to follow John out of the morgue, but upon realization, turned around and pressed a kiss upon his wife's cheek. He noticed how his heart beat wildly in his chest, the only conclusion coming to his mind of a truth that has been around for a long time; much longer than he realized. "I will see you at Baker Street, my darling." With that, he swept out of the morgue, leaving Molly in utter surprise.

* * *

"You alright, Holmes?" John asked his best friend. It was unlike him to miss such a deduction.

"I have been a fool," Sherlock sighed. John's eyebrows shot up with curiosity.

"Go on," John encouraged.

"I am distracted yes, but not because of her; it is because of me," Sherlock explained.

"How so?" John asked, full well knowing the answer.

"I have always felt the same about her as she does for me," Sherlock admitted. "I am only distracted because I had refused to acknowledge it and now it haunts me."

* * *

Molly arrived home to the melancholy melody of the Stradivarius. Something was bothering him, she knew, but did not want to pry. She opted to lay a gentle hand upon his shoulder in concern before turning toward the bedroom. Stripped down only to her corset and chemise, she took the journal out of the nightstand on her side of the bed.

 _Wednesday, October 16_ _th_ _1895_

 _I am beginning to feel that things have changed, indeed. As to what caused it, I do not know, but I do know that I have not been happier. I often wonder if he knows the depth of my love for him. If not, I intend to let it be known. No longer will I wait for him to initiate anything; I will give it a try myself to see his response. How I have longed to feel his lips upon mine once more, for I have not felt them since our day of holy matrimony. The melody he is playing on his violin leads me to believe his heart is aching. It is a most saddening song filled with longing and desire. Perhaps he feels what I feel. The wistfulness of his composition leads me to believe so. I no longer want him to feel this way; he must know how I love and cherish him. Wish yourself luck, Margaret Elizabeth Holmes._

* * *

Molly prepared a warm meal for the both of them and they ate in companionable silence. Sherlock insisted that he would take care of the dishes, pointing out she had had a trying day at the hospital. She thanked him before returning to the bedroom, nearly ready to turn in for the night, until a letter on the bed caught her eye. It simply said ' _Molly_ ' on the envelope. She lifted the candle from her nightstand and opened it up. It was written in her husband's hand.

 _Molly, my beloved,_

 _I know I have been a less than desirable husband and for that, there is no excuse. I am sorry if I have hurt you in any way. I realize now that I have been a fool. I hope you can forgive me for my cruel ways, for it was not my intention to be the reason you cry yourself to sleep at night. I only wish to hold you close to me and comfort you. I would like to kiss you properly but I fear you will reject me after all of the pain I have put you through. I would not blame you if you were to push me away. My darling, I love you and have always loved you. My heart is yours completely. I am sorry that I never acknowledged this fact, for I did not want to partake in romantic entanglements. The truth is, loving you was only a distraction because I had never told you the truth of my heart; however nonexistent it may be. I pushed and pushed you away from me and I fear you do not quite love me any longer. I yearn for your lips, your gentle touch and the loving words that escape your mouth with that lovely voice of yours. I will say it again and I will say it for the rest of our lives. I love you. I love you. I love you. Please say you love me too._

 _Always yours,_

 _William S.S. Holmes_

Molly's eyes were flooded with tears at the words he had written her. Her head lifted up to find him in the doorway, a look of pure adoration on his face. His brows furrowed with worry but his cerulean eyes shone with a love that Molly had never seen before. She set the candle back down for fear of dropping it on her corset and chemise. He stepped closer until he was able to caress her cheek with his callused hand. Molly leaned into his warm touch as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Oh, dear Lord," he spoke softly. "I am in love with you, Molly. My darling." She did not wait a second longer before pressing her lips against his fervently. Sherlock savored the taste of her lips as he slid his tongue along the seam of them. Their kiss deepened and their passion grew as he trailed down her jaw toward her neck. She felt him nibbling along her pulse point carefully, sending a wave of pleasure through her.

"I love you," she breathed out, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. The warmth of his lips were suddenly atop her breasts, caressing her tenderly. He kissed her lips once more, moving her to lie against the pillows.

"Forgive me," he whispered in her ear.

"I do, my love. I forgive you," Molly smiled up at him.

* * *

As they held one another, Molly's face buried in the crook of his neck, Sherlock felt the completeness that he was once told by his best friend he would feel if he would just let love in. His gaze roamed over the sleeping form of his wife in awe. He pressed his lips in her hair softly, drifting to sleep as they remained tangled with one another. Sherlock knew what it was to yearn and he never wanted to forget the way he felt tonight.


End file.
